


'Like the Comfort of Unexpected Light in the Dark' by Kamira

by scrolls_ladyof



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-17
Updated: 2011-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-17 01:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrolls_ladyof/pseuds/scrolls_ladyof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn and Eomer share a night of bitter secrets and old fears with a result neither expected. There is more backstory to be written, but who am I to argue with two Kings when they make demands to "write that bit right now."</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Like the Comfort of Unexpected Light in the Dark' by Kamira

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Lord of the Rings, nor the concepts of Middle Earth and all related sundries. They belong to J.R.R.Tolkien's estate while the beautiful interpretations of them I use here belong to NewLine Cinema and Peter Jackson.  
> Feedback: Feedback of any type gratefully accepted. My first LotR story. :-)  
> Warning: This story contains what I feel is a non-graphic but ongoing mention to a past rape, but only in the context of healing from it.  
> Archive: If anyone wants to, certainly. Only let me know, please?  
> Author's Note: I thought I'd get my feet wet in the LotR pond while I work on other longer stories that are scampering about my brain. This is set, I'm afraid somewhere between movieverse and bookverse, because well I love so much of both I suppose. Takes place an indeterminate number of years after the end of the Ring War. For those who have read the books and wonder where Lothiriel is, I don't have an answer. Arwen is wondering where her husband is since she expected him back from talking with Eomer a bit ago, but I trust Aragorn to know that she will understand what he does and why. Thanks to Laura for the wonderful Betaing, any remaining errors of which I am certain there are some are my own fault.

"You are up late, my friend," Aragorn said quietly as he watched Éomer stroke the brush through the mare's coat.

Éomer started slightly and then finished the stroke.

"There is still a ranger's stealth hidden amongst the robes of Gondor's king it seems. You surprised me."

"That was not my intent. You seemed leagues away in thought, Éomer. Your pardon for startling you. A man should be able to lose himself in thought within his own stables without fear of the consequence."

"No place is ever a completely safe haven this side of the Halls of the Dead Aragorn. Not even a King's own hall."

Aragorn sighed upon hearing the old bitterness that underlay Éomer's words. He could recall himself how shadowed Meduseld had been when Wormtongue had worked his evil upon Theéoden and clouded the king's mind. "You are too strong a man, my friend, and too cunning I think, to ever allow such darkness to overtake the Golden Hall again, or be taken in by the fell whispers of a wizard's lackey."

Éomer turned to look at him, with a surprising amount of anger to the younger man's amber eyes. "You know nothing of where you speak, Aragorn. Do not insult the dead with your attempt at flattering the living."

Aragorn sighed. "Again I have given offence where I intended none. Better to say forewarned if forearmed, Éomer. It is far easier to defend against an evil you know than one which you do not."

Éomer sighed himself. "There is some truth to your words. I- apologize for my sharp tongue, Aragorn. Saruman's worm is a subject that still- rankles."

"Then we will leave off speaking of him," Aragorn offered. "Let me ask instead if you are certain you wish to part with so amazing a steed? She is a wondrous gift, Éomer and I would be more than gladdened to take her back to Gondor with me when we leave but no doubt you could find me a more than adequate horse from amongst the common stock. You need not give me not one but two that carry Mearas blood?"

"The King of Men deserves a mount that carries the blood of the Lord of Horses," Éomer returned. "And I can not in good conscience send you one without the other. If I send you the stallion, he will be without a mare he would mount, and so I condemn him to the death of his bloodline. If I send you the mare, the fate is much the same. You can not expect a Mearas to accept the ruttings of a simple horse." He patted the proudly arched neck beneath his hand with obvious reverence. "It would be like expecting a princess to allow herself to be used by a brigand simply because you wished she had a babe."

Aragorn frowned. "That is a foul image indeed, and I would like to think you have a better care for me than to imagine I would ever treat anyone so, be they the daughter of Kings or of the Lord of Horses."

Éomer gave him an odd smile. "Your honor and understanding has never been anything I doubted, my lord Elessar. I only sought to explain my gift."

"Then I accept with great joy if the pair is of a mind to journey to Gondor with each other for company." He found a smile. "I thought perhaps to ask if, as the older brother, you were casting a defensive slur upon Faramir you know." He tried to recapture the easy camaraderie he and Éomer had earlier.

Éomer chuckled. "Nay. Faramir is a fine man and he makes my sister a wonderful husband. She is happier now than I have seen her in far too many years, Aragorn." Éomer's eyes darkened again almost instantly and he frowned. "I have never had any luck defending her honor at any rate. She has had to bear that burden alone too much I fear."

That made Aragorn blink in surprise. "Éowyn?"

Éomer turned away from the mare completely to look at him. "Did you not know then? I thought....Well- given her care for you once upon a time she might have confided it to you. How Saruman's worm dogged her steps for far too long- and with what intent." The winnowing brush in his hand was tossed into the bucket at his feet with a sharp and angry clatter.

Aragorn sighed, "No, Éomer, I knew that not." He felt his own anger rise at the thought. "Would that I had let your uncle cleave his head from his shoulders here on the steps of Meduseld then instead of counseling mercy."

Éomer glared at him, reminding Aragorn forcibly of the young leader of the Rohirrim he had met on the plains the first time, who had come close to spearing him as a spy of Saruman.

"What is this? You say you stopped my uncle from giving the damned worm the death he deserved? That is a fell way of showing your friendship to Rohan, Aragorn."

"I- did not know how deep his perfidy ran, Éomer. Only that your uncle was recently himself again, and perhaps still in some throes of lasting dark enchantments. It seemed wise to caution against any hasty decisions then. If I had but any small inkling of what Gríma subjected Éowyn to I would have ran the Worm through myself."

Éomer's scowl did not lessen. "She kept him at bay. Never doubt her honor."

"Peace, Éomer. You are determined to find fault with everything I do and say tonight, King of Rohan. Have I offered you some unintended offence, that you would seek out reason to be cross with me?"

Éomer blinked and then sighed, but the anger left his now shadowed eyes. "My anger is not at you, Aragorn. It is only at Wormtongue and myself."

"Do not punish yourself for Wormtongue's evil, Éomer. You are too good a man to have ever left your sister undefended unless all other options of keeping Rohan safe were exhausted to you. And there is some reasonable expectation, I think, that the White Lady of Rohan, slayer of the Witch-King of Angmar, could defend her honor well enough from a spineless worm like Gríma."

Éomer smiled after a moment, but the expression was cold and the snort of laughter had a bitter edge. "She is ever a marvel, is Éowyn." He looked at the southern wall off the stable as if to peer through it, all the way to Ithilien. "Sometimes, I fear that Rohan would have been better served had she brought Faramir here to Edoras, and took up the seat of Kings in the Golden Hall, as my uncle had wished her to do."

"Does the crown weigh on you, Éomer?" Aragorn asked, trying to balance gentleness in his tone without sounding condescending. "There are many days I think I would simply like to leave mine to Faramir indeed and escape back to the wilds of Arnor."

Éomer gave another snort of laughter that held more humor and less bitterness now. "He would hunt you down himself, I wager. I am- perhaps more tired than I realized, Aragorn. My words are weighted barbs tonight, it seems, and I've no desire to prick you with them."

"If by bearing a few barbed words I can be a friend, and empty your mind of their poison; then I will dodge them with whatever skill I may yet have at the task." Aragorn said, but he watched Éomer as he spoke because there was yet an underlying tension and real anger to the younger man that made Aragorn worry for his friend.

"I will not cut at a friend with a blade I wield only against my own shortcomings, Aragorn. I would be a poor friend indeed if I did." Éomer said, picking up the bucket of brushes and cloths and heading toward the tack room. "Let us say good night and leave the words to lie until tomorrow."

"Shortcomings?" Aragorn moved from where he leaned against the carved pillar to follow Éomer. "Do not disparage yourself so, Éomer. I perceive now that your comments about Éowyn leading Rohan were not so jesting as I had thought. Are you troubled by something, Éomer, my friend? Is there not I can do as ally, or King, or even simply a friend to aid you? You have never failed to come to my aid when I have needed you most."

Éomer set the bucket down turning to look at him fully, and the look in those amber eyes was coldly assessing, as if he sought some hidden weakness or concealed danger from an enemy and not a friend. Aragorn caught himself as he drew up to meet challenge with challenge and instead relaxed again and let Éomer see him as he would. Éomer needed a friend it would appear and neither a King or an opponent.

"Do you think less of my uncle for his succumbing to Gríma's foul sorcery?" Éomer asked after a long moment of measured silence.

It was not at all the opening move Aragorn had been expecting. But he found his answer as quickly as he could. "No. I have seen and heard too much of Saruman's power. He brought Gandalf the Grey to his knees in Isengard. There were great and dark magics in the world in those days, Éomer; that no man be he king or not could stand against." He sighed recalling not only Theéoden of Rohan but Boromir as well, and then the utter helpless horror which had gripped him as he had stood upon the plains of Mordor and Sauron's fell voice had called his name. For that one moment, he had known in some dark unfathomable point in his soul that it was all for naught. And indeed if the Dark Lord had been at that moment before him he would have been helpless to even raise his sword again in time to block a blow. And Elendil's heir would have met Elendil's fate upon the same cursed earth. "I think no less of Theéoden of Rohan for not being able to defend against such sorcery, only admire him more for how he recovered himself so quickly when the enchantment was finally broken."

Éomer nodded. "Then you would not think me unfit to hold Rohan, as his chosen heir, if I told you I did the same?"

Aragorn drew in a quick breath at that for Éomer seemed set on shocking and confounding him this night. "No. I would only think more of you for the fact that you have led your people so well despite it."

Éomer's smile was bitter. "You may well rue those words, King of Gondor. I am not the man you think me."

"Then speak plainly to me, Éomer King. Tell me what you mean by these odd words of succumbing to foul sorcery."

"It was no sorcery Wormtongue used to break my spirit, Aragorn, only pain and fear and horror." Black bitterness laced the words, and drew the shadows close about them in the small room.

"I see no broken man before me," Aragorn said, wishing for sudden inspiration on what to say. "I see a man who drew loyal men from throughout his country to ride against Saruman's Uruk-Hai filth and keep some portion of his people safe when the King could not; who risked imprisonment, banishment and death to try to keep the Riddermark free. I see the man who rode against the Mûmakil of Harad with only his spear and his bow for his defense. And I see the man who rode with me to the Black Gate of Mordor itself. Speak not so ill of yourself, King of Rohan."

"Come then. I will show you of where I speak and you can tell me if you would still name me any of that or only fool and coward," Éomer's voice was chill as he turned and led Aragorn out of the stables around to the back of Meduseld and an area of Edoras that Aragorn was not familiar with. Built into the back of the great hill was a short building of stout logs and iron doors. Éomer opened one and then took a moment to light the waiting torch before heading down a corridor that seemed hewed into the very hill itself. Aragorn followed, counseling himself to patience and allowing Éomer to tell this tale in whatever manner he could.

"It is not a comfortable place to be." Éomer said finally, quietly and gestured at one small room with his torch. Aragorn felt a sudden cold breath upon his skin and the prickle of imminent danger that made him lay his hand upon the hilt of his sword. Darkness foul and too well armed permeated this place. He looked into the small room as Éomer undoubtedly wanted him too but there was only blank walls, a low ceiling mostly covered with one huge support beam and a dirt floor. If he had stepped inside he would have had to keep his head ducked because there was not enough height to the room for him to stand uprigh. But there was nothing else in the room at all. Then he caught sight of Éomer's eyes and realized his error, there were, it seemed, memories enough to shake the soul.

"What happened here, Éomer?" He asked quietly. Thinking suddenly that it was like to drawing Faramir and Eowyn out from the fell dreams they had suffered from the black breath of the Nazgûl. And he had no Athelas to aid him here.

"He broke me," Éomer said. The words were so very calm that the horror of them escaped Aragorn for a moment. "Right beneath my uncle's feet, here in the very bowels of my own city. He had me dragged from the hall and clamped in chains. It is a dark pit in here when they leave with the torches."

"No doubt," Aragorn agreed. "Would you tell me more or keep it to yourself, Éomer? Whatever horror you bore here it did not and has not broken you, my friend. Do not confuse succumbing to pain with giving over to evil, Éomer. You are too strong and honorable a man to be so judged."

Éomer sighed and gave him a bitter smile. "You speak once more rashly, Elessar. For you see only the projection I have worked so hard at since the day I escaped this place, and rode to the west mark to salvage what honor I could, and not the coward who curled upon this floor and wept."

Aragorn forced down a deep breath. "All men weep if the pain is great enough, Éomer. Do you think I have never done so?"

"I doubt you were covered in your own blood and the filthy seed of some worm, Elessar."

Anger and horror both bright and sharp like the edge of Andúril in the sunlight cut through his mind at that. "No. That sort of torture is a horror I have been fortunate enough to escape." He kept his voice steady by will alone. "You bore such pain and horror as that and still rode to the defense of your people in the Westfold? Éomer- you are no coward, no broken man hiding behind the facade of a King. See yourself as I see you, in very truth a man who does and did all that was required of him and more who had come through the deepest darkness a man can know and thrown down the enemy of his people." He reached over, weighing caution against comfort and put his hand firmly on Éomer's shoulder. "You are the King of Rohan. You are my best ally in this world, and the dearest friend I could ask for as man or King. You shame me with your courage and give me inspiration to lead my own people from how well you lead yours. Whatever foulness he left you with, Éomer, cast it aside. The man who survived it deserves more honor than you give him."

Éomer looked back at the small room and then smiled sadly. "You can not know of what you speak." He said and then sighed. "But- I shall thank you for the kindness none the less."

"Then speak it to me so that I may yet understand. This place and your memories are a wound that must be tended, Éomer. It is always painful to have a wound lanced but ofttimes it is what must be done before balm be given or healing begin. Break free from this fell darkness and I will aid you in any way I can."

Éomer sighed again. "Ofttimes I can- forget it now. Most days I think that, yes I am indeed Éomer son of Éomund, King of the Riddermark. I can take pride in what I do and recall; bravery in battle and devotion to duty and joy amongst my people. But then I will catch a glimpse of shadow and I will see yet the man who lay here and wished to all his ancestors for the simple grace of death to end his shame. And it seems to me that I can not reconcile still one to the other. They fight an odd battle in my mind, Aragorn. The image of the King of Rohan and Wormtongue's- plaything."

"You speak ill of yourself to name the survivor of horror so." Aragorn corrected as he tightened his hand on Éomer's shoulder. "That he gave you pain enough to make you weep after he had gone and wish that the pain would stop even if it meant your death is not cause for belittlement, Éomer. Many a man I would be more than proud to fight beside has borne far less pain and thought plainly that death might be a welcome end if the agony of it would only cease. Many, myself included, prevailed out of stubbornness, of which I know you have a fair share. You stand here yet so, while you call yourself broken I perceive that while you may have fallen you were not shattered." Éomer gave him a bitter smile and only looked at the small room a third time. "In the darkest watches of the night I hear his voice, hated and foul in my ear, and feel the ache of the blows and the sting of the lash which he gave me first, and then the words that he used as skillfully as any blade." Éomer shuddered under his hand. "I will have you, Éomer, and you will yield, or I shall have your uncle's scrawl upon another parchment to declare me and your sweet sister wed and I shall have her instead. The choice is yours, Éomer." He said, and again the words were so calm that it was hard to grasp their horror.

"I need not ask what you did. For you love her well and she is a bright light to all of us in the darkness. So you steeled yourself as best you could and bore his most fell doing."

"He made me scream." Four simple words that fell like the frozen weight of Caradhras into the flame flicked darkness.

"It would make any man scream if t'was done for that purpose, Éomer." Aragorn sighed. "You know that. Nor would you judge any man in the manner you judge yourself. Do you think I have never cried out in pain?"

"Have you?" Éomer turned to look at him again, and Aragorn could see the anguish in Eomer's eyes that his voice masqued so well. He met the dark brown eyes with his own, trying to put all the support into his gaze and gestures and very stance as he could manage.

"Of course I have, Éomer. More times than I can count in my long life. Do not give yourself more pain for being only a man." He gentled his grip on the young man's shoulder. "There is much that men do that is folly, Éomer, but there is much more I find that is good. That you screamed beneath the pain is no fault nor weakness. That you survived it and went on, and are here now the man I see before me, is more bravery than all the tales would give voice to. Will you give me a chance to prove the point to you, Éomer?"

The younger man blinked and gave him an odd look at that. "Do you mean to say you think you have a way of doing it?"

Aragorn found a gentle smile for his friend and nodded. "A simple one in all honesty. I want you to look back into that room and I want you to picture me in your place, can you do that?"

Éomer blinked again and then shook his head. "It would be...You would never...Aragorn."

"Try," He said. Éomer sighed but turned back to the small room with a frown. Valar give me strength and see this done. I am no wizard and yet I seek to make from shadows and thoughts and words alone a bandage for my friend's newly lanced wound. "It is too small to stand upright so I will have to be bent if I am on my feet." He offered quietly, moving to stand behind the other man and look over his shoulder. "I think it would do me well to sit until he returns." He tried his best to place himself in Éomer's thoughts, to see the situation from the inside and to think as Éomer might do.

"The chains make it even more difficult to stand." Éomer said softly.

"So they do,"Aragorn agreed. And he could recall very well the weight of chains. While his blessedly brief period of capture had not been in any way as horrible as Éomer's, it was not a pleasant memory either. "They weigh me down, pinching into my flesh when I move too quick, chafing against the already raw flesh on my wrists, to add another small bit of hurting to the ongoing pain."

"You speak as if you truly felt them,"Éomer's voice was a scarce whisper now; barely enough for Aragorn to hear.

"I did. I feel them yet." He pitched his own voice lower, trying to both encourage and yet not undo the feeling that what they were re-forging together was real. "How long has it been since the light left, and I was cast into darkness with not but pain and despair for cold companions in this place?

"Too long. The light burns your eyes when the door opens as you struggle to your feet."

Muscles chilled and cramped would have protested sudden movement and sent fresh waves of pain to mingle with the old as welts and bruises sprang to life. Chain would have slid over blistered skin and added its own cold caress to the morass of despair and agony. Aragorn drew a half-shaky breath and pressed on, closing his eyes against the flash of the torchlight he could imagine clearly. "And what do I see in the light?" He asked finally, trying to keep his own voice level despite the horror he felt over what they were bringing to life before Eomer's eyes.

"Gríma." The name was a harsh growl, in contrast to the soft whisper Eomer had been speaking in. "Standing there like some pale half-wraith, but for the- gleeful smile he gives at your pain, at your expectation of more to come."

"And I raise my head as best I am able in defiance no doubt."

"Yes."

Aragorn wondered a bit how Éomer could not see the stubborn bravery in that comment as very proof that he was not the broken man he thought himself, but perhaps that would come with time.

"Then Gríma surprises you for he sends the guard with him away, placing the torch into the wall socket here." Éomer followed his own words and placed the torch that lit their way into the wall sconce just inside the cell door. "You do not know the man who leaves but he wears the black of Gríma's service. And you wonder at the move, and rankle that Wormtongue sees you as posing so little threat. And then he closes the door behind the guard and you are alone with him."

Aragorn felt the prick of real uncertainty then, shivering as Éomer did. "He is no novice at terror is Gríma. I must wonder where he learned it, and berate myself for thinking him only a foolish worm." In truth he did both although perhaps not so much the first. Saruman was likely too experienced a tutor in all things foul.

"Yes." A sharp breath followed the word. "The first blow of his leather club is a shock against your ribs and you move aside as much as the chains allow. He hits you again, along the side of your head and your vision greys enough that you stumble and the chains make you fall."

"If I could free my hands at all I would wrap them round his skinny neck and squeeze until he could no longer cackle at my falling." He knew without being told that Gríma would have chuckled at Éomer's pain.

Éomer caught another sharp breath. "Aragorn...."

He would not let the spell be broken. "Do you see it, Éomer? See me shake the hair from my eyes and glare up at him, knowing my defiance will only enrage him but being unable to do anything else?" He squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Do you see?"

"Yes. I- would stop this now...I...You see too much of what still haunts me, that it seems in truth that you lay there as you had fallen...." One unsteady hand indicated the dirt floor in front of them. "I would not- have you bear what came next."

"No. Nor I you- but it must be borne, Éomer. Was borne." He drew a deep breath again. "I can not struggle much in chains, but neither can I be still- even for the love I bear my sister. I must give some sign that I defy him yet."

"Yes." Éomer flinched at the words or at the memory they evoked. "He only strikes you more with the club until you think you will slip into unconsciousness from only that.... And then the worse pain comes. And no pain you have ever known has prepared you for it. The agony, the violation, the horror of feeling your body ripped apart from the inside...." The words trailed of into a choked back sob.

"And I scream with it, because I can do nothing else no matter how I clench my teeth against it. It tears from my throat like another wounding. And he is all the rougher with me for the joy my pain brings him."

"Aragorn...."

But the spell had been woven now and he could see the wrenching tale they were spinning. "And when he is done and I lay shaking upon the dirt, knowing he is laughing at my pain. What does he speak?"

"Nothing." Éomer whispered. "He only spits upon you once and leaves you in the dark again."

Aragorn drew a shaky breath. "And now? Here you have come and found me thus, as the tears I cannot stop course down my face." He stepped in front of Éomer at that. "And somehow I rise to my feet as you unlock the chains and we escape this horrible pit. And I take up my sword- and all it entails, and we ride to war and the world's ending. When the war is done- will you think any less of me as High King than you do now?"

Éomer shook his head. "I would- I think stand amazed that you could shoulder- any burden after this. Much less the crown of Gondor."

He gripped Éomer's shoulders tightly. "Why then should you feel less amazed at the courage of the King of Rohan than of that of the King of Gondor, Éomer son of Éomund?"

A shaky breath. "I- feel his filth yet upon my skin. His hands were cold, like a corpse long dead. His- tongue and teeth were- like to the feel of slime and rabid dogs. If I could only- wash that from my skin. Perhaps then I could- see the courage in myself that I would see in you had our positions somehow been reversed."

"There is no taint of filth on your skin, Éomer of Rohan. Nor is there any taint of darkness on your honor. I see a man bright in spirit and fair and strong of grace who wields a sword and bow and spear as well as any I have ever been privileged to know."

"Then perhaps you can tell me why it is I can yet feel my skin shudder under even the hands of a friend, a man to whom I am sworn as liege lord; as if it had a mind of its own, and would crawl away in fear and shame like some wounded thing?"

Aragorn sighed but did not draw his hands from Éomer's shoulders. "Because you have only just this night lanced the wound that pains it yet, Éomer. Would you expect to achieve all health in one quick rush from draining to complete healing in one night?"

"I...wish it so," Éomer said. "I am wearied onto dropping by the weight of old fears, Aragorn. You are renowned as a healer- advise me please on how to make this pain stop?"

"Would that I knew the answer to that malady, my friend. Would that I could concoct some sort of balm to smooth upon your skin that would convince you it bears no taint yet and no need to flinch from a friend's hands when they would only offer support and comfort.

Éomer gave him a bitter smile in the torch light. "It is not- so bad as I thought, I suppose. I can stand here- even in this very spot and I have not yet found need to pull away from your hands."

Aragorn released one shoulder to offer his hand palm up and empty. "I would rather lose it than raise it against the finest ally myself or Gondor has ever had."

"Is it not such an odd thing to fear?" Éomer frowned as he spoke and then reached out to run his own callused fingers over Aragorn's palm. "The strength of an ally's hand?"

"There is nothing to fear in my touch, Éomer."

"No. I think there is not. Nor- do I perceive that my touch has somehow stained your skin."

"It would never do so. You have a fine mastery of your own strength, Éomer to manage so light a touch.

That made Éomer smile just a bit, with real humor Aragorn thought. "You sound as if I was courting you, Aragorn."

He smiled back. "Well that was not my intent certainly. This is a dark place to pay court to anyone I think."

"Perhaps but- it is a fitting place to speak of my own foulness. I apologize for the jest."

"Éomer- I took no offence at the gesture nor the tease. You may- if it strikes you as humorous enough as to make you smile even here, pay court to me at any time."

And that did indeed get another smile from Éomer. "I've no skill at courting kings, Aragorn."

He shrugged a bit with his own smile. "And I no skill at being paid court by kings. Pretend I am only a ranger out of Arnor you have met on the plains then."

"And what business would a ranger of Arnor...." Éomer paused and then smiled more. "An elf and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?"

Aragorn chuckled at the echo of their first meeting. "My companions' quest, wherever it has taken them, is their own. I come only to visit friends. For long have I held the King of Rohan to be the best of men."

"I do not think I would go that far- but perhaps he is not quite the coward I thought him to be," Éomer said.

"Then we have managed some healing yet; have we not, my friend?"

"We have." Éomer took his hand and intertwined their fingers, squeezing a bit, strength to strength. "I find no need to flinch from this. You indeed have the hand of a healer underneath the calluses of long familiarity with the sword."

"Do you pay me court yet, Éomer?"

"I...." The other man stopped and looked at him again, a different sort of light to his eyes now. "What if I did?"

And as simply as that Aragorn realized his young friend had scattered all the pieces about and he had to scramble to rethink his moves as the whole of the strategy and indeed the very game itself changed. "I will take no insult in it, Éomer." He said, keeping his voice low and even. "Only concern for your reasons."

Éomer took a deep breath and then squeezed his hand tighter. "You are my most trusted friend. You bring me hope even here in my greatest darkness. I find comfort in your touch where I expected I would still feel fear. I do not- ask for your heart, Aragorn, nor for more than you would give....but- I would have you kiss me. Just once- now- here in this fell place so that I may in truth find what courage this healing has given me."

"You need only have asked." Aragorn answered. Then he paused and squeezed his own fingers around Éomer's, feeling the strength in the answering grip. "You have-shared such with other riders of the Mark, have you not?"

Éomer sighed. "Yes. But not since...Gríma...no."

"Then I will take the request as even more an honor." He let go of Éomer's shoulder, keeping their hands still clasped and ran his fingers as lightly as he could along Éomer's jaw. "You need only say the word and I will stop."

"Give me one bright memory of this dark place, Aragorn."

"With pleasure." He followed action to words, leaning over a bit to press his lips lightly to Éomer's.

Éomer was tensed to stone for a moment but then relaxed and lifted his own hand to Aragorn's head, strong, sword-callused fingers sliding into his hair. While Aragorn had meant the kiss to be nothing but a soft brush of lips and comfort given, Éomer leaned into it and then licked at his lips and demanded more.

Desires long denied did not become any less potent for the years of their neglect it seemed, so he opened to the kiss and let Éomer taste his fill. He was fully willing to let Éomer be the aggressor in this kiss as his young friend needed no added pressure at the moment.

Éomer growled, low and rough and then released Aragorn's other hand to wrap that arm around him and pull him closer again.

"Éomer...." Aragorn cautioned as he finally pulled back. "Do not press so hard so fast, my friend. I am no threat."

Éomer's breath came in hard pants. "That was- not my intent...." Amber eyes darkened. "I...."

"Do not find shame it now," Aragorn chided with a smile. "I am well flattered indeed. More than flattered truth be told. I only- caution a bit less haste. It is far too pleasant a thing to share such with you for me to want haste."

Éomer blinked, staring at him in what under most terms might be slightly comical surprise. "I.... I do not think I know what to say to that."

"No?" Aragorn gentled his smile. "I would like very much to know if you enjoyed it."

"Could you not tell?" There was honest disbelief in Éomer's voice.

Aragorn chuckled. "It certainly seemed as if you did."

"I did." Éomer nodded and then licked his lips. "What an odd thing to find comfort in; the taste of spiced-wine and pipeweed. But it- clears my mind of older far fouler tastes."

"Does it?" Aragorn smiled. "Then I am glad. You taste of wine and sweet clover."

"Do I?" That made Éomer smile in return. "Now I think you are paying court to me."

"And if I was?" Aragorn returned his friend's earlier comment.

Éomer's eyes narrowed and then he drew in a deep breath. "I would not say no. I would- say I wish- I think....I...." He shook his head with enough strength to send the blond waves tumbling about his face. "I will ask it plain, here of all places. Come to my bed? Be with me? Healer, Savior, Lover I know not, but- I would- find peace and freedom in your arms and burn my way free of this with the fire you stir in my blood."

"I would say yes, but with one reserve."

"And that is?"

"Lover I will be, healer if I may. But you need no savior, Éomer. And calling me so I think gives the taste of pity to this joining. And what I feel for you is nothing like pity. Only admiration and affection, and- a surprising amount of honest desire."

Éomer sighed. "I may....my desires may outstrip my courage."

"Then we will find ones that do not," Aragorn promised.

"Kiss me again?"

"Here?"

"Here first. Then in my rooms later."

"With pleasure." Aragorn smiled and then kissed Éomer again, with no less caution but far more desire. Éomer gave another low groan and seemed to let Aragorn set the gait of this kiss to a canter, but it did not last and he sighed and gave over the kiss again as Éomer deepened it into another mad charge of swiftest haste. "Éomer."

A low note of complaint came from the man in his arms. Too low to be a true whine but with just that note of annoyance. Then Éomer sighed and smiled at him. "It is- so very, very good to kiss you so. Heady indeed as any ale and sweeter yet. You taste of freedom, Aragorn and light a fire in my blood like the very beacons of Gondor upon the mountains."

"I would not call you to war for my banner, Éomer of Rohan, but to far more pleasant pursuits here within your own hall."

Éomer sighed. "I am a poor host indeed to press you so here in this abyss when I have fine furs and warm blankets to offer right above our heads."

"I take it as great compliment that you would find pleasure in my kisses even here, Éomer, and am not the least bit unhappy with your hospitality."

Éomer smiled but then his eyes darkened again and he looked about the small room with a sigh before drawing in a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. "I would leave it here."

"Then we shall do our best to fight our way free of it," Aragorn offered.

Éomer took the torch from the wall sconce and then drew in another deep breath and closed the door. Aragorn did not miss how he tensed as the wood closed with a heavy thud.

"We are on this side of the door, Éomer. Let us walk into the starlight."

A nod, but he could see Éomer shiver before he stilled it and then headed out without a backward glance. Aragorn shook his head a bit at the stubborn glorious pride that move spoke of and glanced back at the closed door himself and saying a silent prayer for the easing of the pain that Éomer had born in that dark place. Éomer extinguished the torch as they reached the outer door which was still open to the vast expanse of the sky over Rohan's plains.

Aragorn reached out and caught his hand, twining their fingers together again with a squeeze that he hoped was neither too gentle nor too hard. "I will not belabor asking you if you are certain of your invitation or your decision. I ask only that you believe me that I will think no less of you. Care no less for you if indeed your desires have gained their head in the race against your better judgement."

"It is not better judgement that makes me tremble, Aragorn. Only simple fear."

"What is there to fear here, Éomer? There is only me and I am no threat to you my dear friend."

"Are you not?" Éomer asked, and then sighed, shaking his head a bit. "No. I... know it. Every part of me knows it, I would say except my skin. What madness is it to be so at war with one's self, Aragorn? I want you to come to my rooms, share my bed. But- I do not know that I can keep from leaping from my own skin to escape the way it crawls."

"Slow the race, Éomer. Gentle the gait, hmm? We've all the night for naught but kisses if that is what will ease you." He gripped Éomer's fingers tighter for a moment. "Does this make your skin crawl as you say?"

"No," Éomer shook his head, his own fingers tightening on Aragorn's. "It is- a comfort."

"Then I am glad of it. Did it make you tremble to kiss me as you did only just these moments ago? For it did not seem to me that fear was any part of that action."

"No." A steadier sigh. "It is what comes next that I both want and- fear."

"What comes next, Éomer is neither set into stone immovable nor is it in any terms something you need force yourself to bear. I am your friend first and foremost in this, Éomer. Lover, yes if you will have me so, and healer if I can be of any aid. But friend first."

"I want- to kiss you again."

"Then do so. I doubt much that anyone will see us here in the shadow of the Golden Hall."

Éomer gave one glance around. "I would trust a ranger's skill at knowing if there are prying eyes about more than I would my own." He offered before turning so that he faced Aragorn fully. "Kiss me."

Aragorn almost smiled at the order, but took Éomer at his word and leaned over to kiss him again, and this time he would not be rushed. A long slow deep kiss that lasted until they were both a bit breathless.

"In truth- there is no fear in that." Éomer smiled as he finally pulled away.

"I will be glad of it then." Aragorn took a deep breath. "You still taste like clover."

Éomer chuckled. "It is the honey from desert, I think."

"Is it?" Aragorn smiled. "It is a heady taste regardless of its reason."

Éomer's hand squeezed his again. "I should ask of you then what you asked of me. Did you enjoy that then?"

Aragorn gave him a look of exasperation and then realized Éomer could not read his face that well in the darkness. "Yes. Did you doubt it?"

"No. Only foolish fears, Aragorn."

"No fear carried by so brave a man could be called foolish." Aragorn corrected. "Shall we journey yet inside or do you wish to simply stay the night under the stars and sate ourselves with kisses?" He smiled as he spoke so that Éomer could know he did not fault either choice.

"I wish to go inside, to my rooms; to my bed and kiss you there."

Aragorn caught his own breath at the desire that colored Éomer's voice. "Then I will follow."

"You are High King. Should you not lead?" Éomer asked, but headed toward Meduseld proper.

"It is your home, Éomer; I will be content to follow."

They walked in mostly silence, only an occasional whisper as they traversed the shadowed hall to Éomer's rooms. Then one set of guardsmen they passed looked a bit uncertain at their appearance, and then all the more worried when they saw that their King and Aragorn were about in the dead of night without escort, but Éomer assured them all was well. Aragorn drew upon his many years of skill in the forests of Arnor to hear them whisper to each other as he and Éomer headed into the Golden Hall. He chuckled softly and caught Éomer's hand again.

"What do they say?" Éomer asked in a whisper, obviously having expected that Aragorn would know.

"They fear I am entangling you in some new quest of mine. And wonder if I mean to deprive them of their King and disappear with whoever our companions may be into some land of mystery. Or whether I expect all of the Rohirrim to ride once more to Gondor. They would prefer the second, actually, as it is more straight forward, and they feel they should fight with you to whatever end."

Éomer chuckled himself, "They will be disappointed then that you do not call Rohan to some great victory."

Aragorn squeezed the hand he held in his and pitched his voice lower still. "I think tonight is a fine victory for Rohan, Éomer."

"If it should be that I win- perhaps. But if I should fail? How then would you call me, Aragorn?"

"The best of friends and companions and it will be our battle against shadow, Éomer, so you will have to say our victory when we defeat them."

"I notice you do not say our defeat, when we lose."

"Because I have more faith in you, than you have in yourself. You are too brave and stubborn a man to give over so lightly."

Éomer's fingers tightened painfully on his. "Did that pit teach you nothing?" He hissed as they reached his rooms and Aragorn kept his reply until they were safe behind the door.

"It showed to me a courage that I yet find a marvel, and would count myself lucky to emulate." Aragorn gave his friend a sad smile and then reached out with his free hand to trace a finger along Éomer's jaw. "You have never yielded any battle lightly, Éomer. I do not find your sister's life and sanity a light price, nor the horror and pain you bore to see her safe as anything less than the greatest of agonies I have ever thought a man might endure to save his loved ones. And never have I known a man to shoulder half that weight with such strength as you have shown."

Éomer gave a snort of what might have been amusement. "How do you manage so much with only words, Aragorn? You would have me yet feel as if I might find some honor in my survival of that foul place and what I bore there."

"As well you should. I am honored to simply know the man who did so calls me friend."

Another snort of laughter but Éomer's fingers finally eased on his. "I would- call you more than friend."

Aragorn smiled. "You may call me anything you wish, Éomer."

"May I then?" He could see Éomer steel himself as he raised his hand to trace along Aragorn's jaw. "Elessar or Aragorn?"

"I prefer Aragorn. Elessar is too formal for friends such as we."

"Hmm. I can not quite manage Strider with any seriousness." Éomer's fingers moved down his throat. "Thorongil was a friend of my grandfather's, which is hard for me to reconcile with the man I know." The fingers paused against the hollow of his throat and he could feel them tremble just a bit. "And I've no desire to call you by a title right now."

"Good." Aragorn reached up with his free hand and pressed Éomer's palm against his chest. "And what of calling me other than friend?"

"Hmm," Éomer drew a deep breath. "Lover?"

"I would be more than honored." Aragorn released Éomer's hand, smiling a little as Éomer left it pressed against his chest; and ran his own fingers down from the point of the other man's jaw, feathering a caress along his throat. "May I call you the same?"

"Yes." Éomer's fingers tightened just a bit on his doublet. "Aragorn...." Éomer's eyes darkened but there was a small smile too, which held more than a touch of bitterness. "I...." Éomer drew his hand away after a moment longer. "Is this how women feel, do you think?" The question came in a rough growl of words.

Aragorn blinked trying to follow the path of Éomer's thoughts that had prompted such a question, but it was a futile track for he had no real idea what his friend was asking. "Women?" He asked, hoping Éomer might clarify the question.

Éomer gave him another bitter smile and then turned away to walk over to the small table and poured himself a tankard of the mead that was waiting there.

"What women feel when they are first wed I mean." Éomer's voice was a bit rough yet. "I am torn in halves it seems, one anticipating desire and the other chilling fear."

"I will be flattered by the desire certainly." Aragorn said walking over. "What makes you fear, Éomer? There is no darkness here, no enemy to steel yourself against. Only a friend who would also be a lover if you would have him."

"I would." Éomer glanced over at him. "And yet...." He set the tankard down. "I think it is failure I fear most. For if I can not do this yet- I will know myself a coward in truth and no matter how well you speak; you will never convince me otherwise."

Aragorn shook his head. "If I can not convince you with my words then let me guide you to see it in other ways." He moved a step to his side so that he stood behind Éomer now and placed his hands on Éomer's shoulders once more."You do not tense against my hands." Although Aragorn was almost certain he wanted to.

"No. Not yet at least. Nor does my skin shudder."

"Then how can you name yourself coward?" He squeezed the broad shoulders tighter as he spoke.

Éomer pulled from his grip but only to turn around and face him. "Aragorn, I am not a man skilled with words, nor patience, least of all at my own folly. If I am to fail at this-- then I will fail for the doing and not hide behind the fear of failing and do nothing." Éomer reached up and strong fingers slid into Aragorn's hair. "Give me leave to do this." It was not a question, though it was not quite a command, lacking Éomer's usual directness at orders.

Aragorn smiled. "You have more than my leave, Éomer, you have my desire. For this and all that is to come after."

Éomer pulled him that last half-step closer and kissed him with no ease to it at all, only a direct and headlong charge into madness. Which was much as Aragorn had expected it would be. He only let the desire wash over him, though him, twining it with his own until it finally seemed to find an ease. Éomer's tongue slid against his now with less force, but with no less fervor. Aragorn did his best to breathe around the kiss but finally he had to draw back.

"You astound me," he said, finally.

Éomer only stared at him and then smiled a bit. "You look more aroused than astounded, Aragorn."

That made him chuckle. "I will hardly argue that you are right and that is a large portion of it truly." He licked his lips with a smile and then reached behind Éomer for the tankard his friend had set down. In so doing he pressed against him just a bit, enough for the sensation of hard muscle and heat not cushioned at all by the layers of linen and velvet between them to register to them both it seemed. Éomer caught his breath sharply, but gave no other sign of arousal or fear. Aragorn brought the tankard to his lips and then took a deep swallow with deliberate slowness before he lowered the mug to lick the last of the taste from his own lips.

Something flared in Éomer's eyes that did not seem a bit like the darkness of earlier. "You tease with more skill than I expected."

Aragorn smiled. "I have- always enjoyed teasing when I knew I could fulfill the promises I made with it."

"Do you then?" Éomer reached over and took the tankard from him and took a drink himself before setting it back down. "I am- out of practice with the ways of teasing."

Aragorn chuckled. "You do not need them. Éomer, my friend, all you need do is stand there and you tempt me. I would run my hands through your hair and feel it slide over my fingers in its own caress. I would yield myself to another of your kisses that wreaks such turmoil to my thoughts. I would with much joy I think, feel the strength of your hands against my skin and the greater strength of your arms around me. And seeing you stand there so- only makes me desire each one more."

Éomer gave him a small smile. "Wizardry with barest words you manage so easily, Aragorn." Then the smile faded a bit but Éomer reached for the sword belt at his waist and undid it to set the blade aside, resting his hand against the scabbard for a lingering moment.

"You do not need it to defend against me, Éomer. You know that; I trust?"

"Yes. I know. But it is hard to let go of."

"Sometimes I think we have spent too much time at war, Éomer. It is far easier to let go of the pleasant things that life offers than of our blades." He unbuckled his own sword belt and laid Anduril next to Éomer's sword. Then he smiled a bit more and unbuckled the dagger Celeborn had gifted him with what seemed a lifetime ago in Lothlorien and laid that on the table as well. Éomer raised one eyebrow at the second blade and Aragorn gave him a more embarrassed smile and drew his last dagger from his boot. "Old habits."

Éomer chuckled. "Are you unarmed now, Aragorn?"

"Yes." He held out both hands. "And you?"

Éomer's smile turned a bit more teasing and then he pulled one blade from a sheath concealed with in his sleeve, and cleverly done, as Aragorn had not realized it was there. He made a point to himself to ask Éomer of it later as it seemed not a bad idea to know how it was done. "It was a gift from Theodred." Éomer smiled. "He had a mind for such subtleties."

"It is a fine gift." Aragorn agreed. Then he reached over to lay his palm over Éomer's heart. "You need no hidden blade tonight, Éomer. Simply tell me if what I do is naught that you wish for and I will stop. On my honor I swear it."

"I know. It was not a pledge you needed to make Aragorn."

"Perhaps not." He smiled. "But I would make it none the less. And to it I would add not an oath but only a request. Tell me not only what you do not wish but what you do? I would very much like to see you take delight in my touch."

"I will delight in it simply if it does not make me shudder." Éomer sighed.

"I will delight in it more if it makes you shudder from something other than fear." Aragorn returned.

That got a brief smile. "You have such confidence, Aragorn."

"Perhaps." He said and then slowly slid his hand up to Éomer's throat and feathered a caress up along his neck to play his fingers over the lobe of his ear and then back to tangle in his hair and draw him into a kiss.

Éomer met him after a moment and Aragorn yielded the kiss once more, but did not keep from returning it with all the skill he could find. Éomer groaned against his lips and then one hand fisted into Aragorn's hair and the other arm wrapped around him to pull him closer. Corded muscle and firm strength pressed against him from hip to chest and he put his arm around Éomer in turn, but did not grip with quite as much strength, only traced his finger tips lightly from Éomer's nape to just below his shoulder blades and back again and again.

"Aragorn." His name was a gasp as Éomer pulled back and stared at him with dark eyes that were very much filled with fire now.

"Yes?"

"Come to my bed?"

"I would be honored." He replied, wishing that Éomer would believe the words.

"The honor is mine I think." Éomer said, but he did not refute Aragorn's claim which was perhaps some small measure of success. They walked the few steps over to the bed and then Éomer surprised him by sitting down and started to untie the lace of his boots with calm efficiency. Aragorn weighed all his possible actions, trying to guess at reactions with the quickness he had learned on the battlefield and then stilled Éomer's hands with the simple expediency of placing his own on top of them as he went to his knees before his friend. "Aragorn...." Something like embarrassment flashed across Éomer's face and then was gone, replaced by honest surprise. "The King of Gondor kneels to no one."

"The King of Gondor is not here. And I would kneel to you my friend." He smiled as he finished undoing the laces that held Éomer's boots in place and drew them down, off his feet before setting them aside. Then he sat back on his heels and raised one of Éomer's feet to his thigh before rubbing his thumbs into the sole and up to press into a few points along the arch that would he hoped relax his friend some. Éomer gave a surprised groan.

"What magic is that?"

"Healer's gift." Aragorn chuckled and then took the other foot to repeat the move.

"There might be some advantage to having a healer in my bed that I had not previously considered."

Aragorn only chuckled again and rose to his feet. "I think I can find several gifts to share with you that you will find advantageous, Éomer."

Éomer licked his lips, in a move Aragorn doubted was for seduction but it served that purpose well. "If you would change places with me- I would try to return the favor."

Aragorn debated it and then raised his foot to place the ball of his foot on the edge of the bed between Éomer's legs instead. Bright fire lighted in Éomer's eyes and he caught his breath sharply. "Shall I withdraw?" Aragorn asked softly as the fire warred with shadow.

"No." There was pure stubbornness to Éomer's harsh answer, but strong fingers came up to undo the ties that held his own boot in place just below his knee. Then Éomer eased the leather down his leg and Aragorn raised his foot off the bed so that the boot could be pulled completely off and set beside Éomer's. Then he switched his balance to his bare foot on the cool stone floor and placed his other foot on the bed. Éomer undid that boot as well and added it to the three on the floor. And Aragorn smiled at bit to himself, because there was no tremor to his friend's hands at the doing. He lowered his foot to the floor and reached out to trace Éomer's jaw.

Éomer reached up and caught his hand. "I...." He stopped and drew a deep breath, his fingers tightening on Aragorn's sharply. "I do not think I can- look up at you for long and do this."

Aragorn found a smile and simply knelt back down. "What is there to fear in it?"

Éomer reached over with his free hand and brushed his fingers through Aragorn's hair. "It is not fear- not yet fear at least. It only- calls to mind, a darkness I- would leave behind me and not draw about us here."

"Then we will find a way out of it." Aragorn promised. "There is no darkness here, Éomer. And certainly no darkness that yet threatens this world that the two of us can not brave and force back to the black land from whence it came."

A slightly bitter smile crossed Éomer's face. "It can not be worse than riding with you to the Black Gate itself, no."

"No." Aragorn agreed. "If it discomforts you to look up at me, Éomer, then I will do what I can to ease that from you. It should not be too difficult, we are of a height. And of a strength I think. Though perhaps you are broader through the shoulder than I." He ran his hand along Éomer's shoulder from point to neck and back.

"I do not think so." Éomer disagreed. "Will you truly not be annoyed with kneeling so to me when I can not return the gesture?"

"If by doing so I can ease you, no I shall not be annoyed. And you have knelt to me already, Éomer. I recall the day well."

Éomer rolled his eyes. "In full armor on the marble floor of Minas Tirith with much of the aristocracy of Gondor gathered about, a full muster of an Eored at my back and my sword in my hand to swear upon. I do not think that counts."

"No?" Aragorn smiled. "I thought it did. I have only ever had two oaths of fealty that meant so much...in very different ways. Three perhaps if I would count Pippin's."

Éomer chuckled. "Faramir's and?"

Aragorn traced one finger over Éomer's lips as he smiled. "That obvious was I? It meant so much to him I could not help but be moved by it."

"He asked me, how I felt when I offered you the Oath of Eorl."

"And what did you answer?" He let his fingers trail from Éomer's lips down his throat again and then carefully undid the first clasp of the embroidered velvet collar of Éomer's tunic.

"That it was an honor, and a privilege, and that I was a bit saddened that I offered it as King of Rohan, as it would have made my heart full of pride to see my uncle or my cousin there to do so in my stead."

"Hmm. I can not say what honor I would have found in your cousin's oath, I knew him not. But I think I would have been overwhelmed with Theéoden's. I never had the chance to tell him how very much I learned about Kingship in the short time I knew him."

"He would have been honored."

"I think the honor was mine." Aragorn disagreed. "But even such an honor as it would have been it would not have meant more to me than yours."

"No?" Eomer's voice was a bit softer on the word, sounding surprised and shy both, but his eyes lightened a bit even before Aragorn replied.

"No." He smiled and then leaned up to kiss Éomer again, without being prompted this time. Éomer sighed, but only opened his lips to Aragorn's, his free hand threading through his hair to cup the back of his skull. Aragorn gave the sigh back and did not let Éomer hasten the kiss too much this time.

"Come join me? I would not have you kneel to me like this, Aragorn."

He raised one eyebrow. "Look at me, Éomer." He said, and then smiled when Éomer met his eyes. "Do I appear to you to be ill content with my position?"

"No." Éomer chuckled. "But I am. Join me on my bed."

"Very well." He rose to his feet again and then sat down beside Éomer. "It is easier to kiss you when I am in front of you than beside you." He pointed out.

"That is very true." Éomer agreed. "But, I had other thoughts." And Aragorn was suddenly called upon to use the skills hard won in many a combat to roll with the tug that Éomer gave him as he turned them both and bore Aragorn back to the bed behind them.

"Éomer."

Éomer simply kissed him before he could speak more and it was a long deep kiss though a bit less of a headlong rush into madness as some of the others. Then Éomer drew away and stood up himself and began to unfasten his clothing with quick skill.

"Cease!" Aragorn made it as light an order as he could. "Please." He added after a moment.

"What?" Éomer blinked and stared at him, then something Aragorn had never seen in Éomer's eyes caught him hard. Not fear now but shame, harsh and cold.

"You would take from me one of the delights I had been so anticipating?" He somehow kept his tone light; infusing it with the joy he wanted so much to gift his friend with instead of the bitter anger that could have so easily swamped him at that instant. Aragorn could have with such ease torn Wormtongue to pieces with his bare hands alone at that moment.

"Delights?" Éomer looked at him, but confusion and some small humor had taken the place of the bitter light of shame. "Now you speak of things I do not grasp the meaning of. I thought only to undress." Éomer's look turned more teasing, and the humor more obvious in the slowly warming amber eyes. "It is usually a necessity that precedes the delight, Aragorn."

Aragorn chuckled and then laid his hands carefully but without undue lightness over Éomer's own where they yet rested on the velvet of his tunic. "I consider it a part of the delight, Éomer. Not a necessity to be done with without joy." He kept the gaze of those piercing eyes as he let his hands brush Éomer's aside so that he could undo the clasps of the tunic himself. Éomer drew a deep breath and then only reached down to take hold of the fabric once the clasps were undone and draw it over his head. Aragorn smiled and making certain that Éomer could judge the move, reached behind him to undo the tie that held part of his hair back. Éomer raised one eyebrow in surprise it seemed and then chuckled.

"It will be a mass of tangled brambles come the morning." Éomer said softly. "It always is."

"Then I will help you brush it." He said, and ran his fingers through it, brushing it back from both temples. "Or I could braid it for you if you like."

"I do not think braids will aid me at all in looking like an elf." Éomer sighed.

"No. Nor do I wish for you to try." He hoped he had read the comment correctly. Sometimes Éomer's thoughts escaped him leaping about from one outcrop to another too quickly for him to follow. "There is beauty and grace and wonder to be found in elves, truly. But there is a different, more rugged beauty and harder won grace and great joy to be found in men as well. I am no more elf than you, Éomer. Do you find fault in that?"

"No-" Éomer sighed. "Beauty is too- fragile a word for how I see you though. And handsome does not have the strength I would give it."

Aragorn smiled. "I am glad you find me so." He let his hands play down over Éomer's throat now, as the collar of the loose linen shirt he wore beneath the velvet was open at the neck. "I wonder what attractiveness you can find in me when you are enough to make me seem dull and dark in comparison. Like Eorl himself, perhaps, or even older tales, of the men of Eotheod, or the Rhovanim." He trailed his fingers back up.

Éomer chuckled. "So I shall call myself Frumgar and you shall be whom? Elendil? One of the sea-kings of old?" His hands found the laces that held Aragorn's own doublet closed. Sun-bronzed fingers, sword callused and rough despite his royalty made an odd contrast with the silver and burgundy brocade and velvet but Aragorn decided they were more welcome for their roughness.

"I will leave off crowns for the night, if I might and simply be a man."

"No. You are too strong of will to be simply anything I think. Your honor and bearing are too great for you to hide even behind the Ranger of Arnor whom I once met upon the plains of the Westfold," Éomer said as he undid the laces along the side of Aragorn's doublet. "You say I am like some Rhovanim of old. You must then admit to being a Numenorean Lord at very least."

"Very well then." He agreed and then found the words he wanted in the elder tongue of the sons of Eorl. "Peace to you, warrior, I would call you brother, and see never strife between us but only friendship and victory over the enemies of men."

Éomer stared at him and then chuckled. "You amaze me, Aragorn."

"Did I not say it right?"

"Better I warrant than I could manage the Numenorean. So I will answer, if I recall the stanza you quote correctly. "'The enemies of men are my enemies, that does not make their foes my friends, but you speak with honor and with courage so I will name you brother as well and give you welcome amongst my kith and kindred.'"

"I would hope for greater welcome still." For that Aragorn had to fall back to the current tongue of Rohan.

"Would you?" Éomer reached out and Aragorn let him slide the tunic over his head and then toss it with perhaps less care than the garment deserved to the back of one of the low chairs. But given that Éomer's own velvet tunic was now lying on the floor he saw no real reason to object either.

"Yes." He undid the last belt around Éomer's waist, adding it to the jerkin on the floor and then never breaking Éomer's gaze he slowly eased his fingers under the hem of the linen shirt and laid them against Éomer's sides, feeling the warmth of his skin like a returned caress. Éomer swallowed hard, and then shuddered suddenly, one long wracking tremor that seemed to start under Aragorn's fingers and spread outward as if a stone had been dropped into a still pool. He debated with himself as to the wisdom of letting go or keeping his fingers where they were and decided he would not draw his hands back unless Éomer gave him some sign that it was what he wanted besides a shudder that had in all likelihood been only a reflex.

Amber eyes darkened to something colder and Éomer's hands gripped his shoulders. "Damn him...."

"He is not worth your curses, nor the breath you use to voice them." Aragorn said. "Take a deep breath and taste your freedom instead, Éomer."

Éomer drew one shaky breath and released it slowly, then another, this one deeper and slower. "There are other tastes- I would find freedom in." And he bent his head a bit to kiss Aragorn again. For his part, Aragorn only sighed into the kiss and let Éomer's tongue search out whatever it wanted to find. Another shiver ran across Éomer's skin, but he did not break the kiss or pull away at all. So Aragorn let it go and relaxed a bit himself when Éomer pulled him closer yet, one hand at the back of his neck, cupping his skull and the other fisted into his own shirt. Aragorn gave himself to the kiss for several long moments, and then began to lightly stroke his fingers from where they rested up along Éomer's ribs. Trying for enough pressure to make it a caress and not a tickle and yet gentle enough to ease his friend past the fear. Finally, Éomer drew back, drawing in a deep breath and then releasing it with a small, half-bitter smile. "How can I find the very thing that makes me shudder soothing, Aragorn?"

"It is often the ways of healing, Éomer. You have strained muscles before and had to work out the pain, or have someone rub the soreness from you. Is that not a case where the healing can be soothing but it brings its own share of discomfort with it? We only need to convince your skin that my touch is nothing to be wary of."

Éomer's eyes lightened a bit and the smile was somewhat less bitter. "You are a true healer under the King, the warrior, and the ranger, Aragorn."

"It is a skill I am proud of, and one that is often a joy to use." He increased the pressure of his hands along Éomer's sides and this time there was no shudder. "Might I see what it is I touch, Éomer?"

A flash of something darker skittered through the brown-gold eyes that met his, and then the smile faded as Éomer set his jaw in what Aragorn knew was pure stubbornness. He could not stop Éomer's movement without taking his hands from where they were; so, he only sighed as Éomer gripped the cream linen in his hands and drew it up over his head to drop it to the floor. Somehow Aragorn found a smile for the bravery contained within the stubbornness. "It was a request, my friend, not a challenge to your courage."

"I will not lose the battle unfought, Aragorn."

"No. I do not think you could ever yield a battle unfought, Éomer. But I would have what is between us be a comfort not a conflict. If it is only courage that keeps you from asking me to cease then I would ask you to tell me so. I- will help you heal if I can, Éomer, but if we can not share this with love between us, be it that of friends or something deeper then it should not be done. I will not do this without your pleasure, my friend. No matter your stubbornness."

Éomer sighed but some of the tenseness left the muscles under Aragorn's hands. "Kiss me again? There is great pleasure in that."

"Then I will kiss you until you can not breathe for it." He slid his hands lightly around to grip Éomer's back and then kissed him, a long if slightly more aggressive duel of tongues than Aragorn had intended. Éomer seemed to take real pleasure in the slight contest and so he resolved himself to the pace and gave the kiss all he could. Finally Éomer pulled away again, to gasp in a breath.

"You steal- my breath."

"And you mine." He managed.

"I will never smell pipeweed again without thinking of how you taste." Éomer said with a small but completely honest smile. "Thank you, for helping me with my horrors, Aragorn. And for reminding me of the pleasure in a friend's touch."

"You are most welcome for both, Éomer."

"I am glad for it. And may I see what I would touch, Aragorn?"

"I would be honored." He undid his own belt and dropped it to the floor with Éomer's. He thought it best to follow Éomer's example and so he only drew his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.

Éomer drew in a sharp breath but said nothing only looked over Aragorn with an expression that did not entirely speak of pleasure. Too much about it hinted at the way one gauged an enemy before battle, looking for weaknesses or strengths. Hoping his friend would see what he needed to; Aragorn only lightly traced his fingers from Éomer's shoulders down his arms and back up, feeling the occasional roughness of long healed scars. And that very roughness gave him something to say he hoped, to ease them past whatever it was that Éomer was seeing.

"Have you grown used to not fighting constant battle, Éomer? I realized only a while ago that I have now gone an entire change of seasons without one new scar."

Éomer blinked, seeming to draw himself back and then chuckled. "I had not thought of it, truth be told." One strong finger traced one of Aragorn's worst, which ran from the middle of his chest in a broad curve down along his ribs and around his side.

"It is such an odd thing, peace. There is threat left, certainly, Harad is always looking to see if we grown lax with Mordor gone. The Easterlings make occasional forays into Ithilien to test the outer defenses since we no longer have to keep out Sauron's armies, but- each year it grows calmer."

"And for us," Éomer agreed. "Do you suppose then if- you visit me for next spring's foaling festival I will be able to say, another year and no wounds taken?"

"I would like to hear it said, yes." Aragorn traced a slight sword cut along Éomer's ribs.

"Your touch feels good." There was a slight uncertainty to the words though that made Aragorn look at Éomer's eyes and not at the path his fingers took. Éomer gave him another small smile. "I find myself waiting for the next shudder. But it does not come."

"Good." He moved into Éomer's arms again and then kissed him quickly, then with as much caution as he could without likely making Éomer think he doubted his friend's courage he moved the thick blond hair aside and placed a kiss to Éomer's throat.

"Aragorn." His name was a harsh growl.

He raised his head to meet Éomer's eyes. "Is it something you do not enjoy?"

"No- I...." Éomer gave him a rueful smile. "Truth be told I am not certain I recall if I enjoy it or not." Strong fingers reached up to trace along the edge of Aragorn's beard as Éomer drew in a deep breath. "It is- foolishness perhaps, but I- would have more if I could, and yet- I would warn you that you might- find disgust with what you do."

"Disgust?" Aragorn frowned at that. "There is nothing about you that would ever give me a disgust, Éomer."

"Yet again you speak to reassure me of my worth before you know what lies behind my words, Aragorn."

And it was, he supposed a fair comment. But Aragorn was just as certain that no matter what Éomer meant by his concern, it was nothing that would cause him to feel anything for Éomer but perhaps greater admiration and more concern. He gave a slight shrug, but did not argue the point.

"Have I been wrong yet in doing so?" He asked instead.

"No- it has not seemed to me that you have been." Éomer smiled, a little sadness to the expression and drew another deep breath. Then he gathered his long blond hair into one strong hand, drawing it back and up away from one side of his neck. Aragorn reached over, with cautious fingers now, as if probing a fresh wound to see the damage, trying to find some explanation for Éomer's move. Éomer turned his head a little more so that Aragorn's fingers moved further back along his throat and shoulder. And since the movement broke their gaze, Aragorn let his eyes follow his fingers. He knew when he touched the spot Éomer meant him to, not because of the slight unevenness of another scar but because Éomer flinched, hard.

"Should I stop?" Aragorn kept his tone as soft as he could.

"Can you not feel it?" Éomer's voice was harsh.

"I feel where a wound has healed, yes." He turned himself to look at the scar; an odd almost half-circular arc of puncturing tears. Then behind that a small portion of the other half of the circle. And the answer came with a cold sharp thrust of anger. Less jagged and deep than the orc bites Aragorn had tended on too many occasions but not unrecognizable for the differences. "You bore so much, Éomer- why can you not see the courage in your survival when it so humbles me?" He stroked his fingers over the bite-mark as if he could draw out the pain. "I would gladly gut him slowly- but I am not disgusted with you."

Éomer let out a snort that was almost a chuckle. "I- will not doubt your word. But I can not grasp how it could be true."

"Then let me prove it true without words." Aragorn leaned over and with as teasing and gentle a touch as he could manage he traced the tip of his tongue along the curve of the scar closest to him.

Éomer gave another gasp of breath but it was a soft almost sob and not the near laugh of earlier. Aragorn repeated the move, with more firmness now and eased his fingers amidst Éomer's so that he could hold the blond hair aside himself; and pull his friend closer as he did.

"Aragorn," this time his name was a sigh.

"Hmm," He murmured against Éomer's skin not yet ready to give up the taste or the pleasure. He followed the edge of the scar with small, open lipped kisses now and Éomer's hands tightened painfully on his shoulders.

"Aragorn- you will- undo me yet with such....."

He smiled and then sealed his lips as best he could over the whole of the scar and sucked lightly. Eomer's fingers gripped his shoulders tighter and then pushed him away. He met the bright amber eyes with a smile. "Now do you believe my words, Éomer?"

"I - could not doubt them, Aragorn." Éomer shook his head and Aragorn let go of the blond hair with reluctance. "You astound me."

Aragorn smiled. "You look more aroused than astounded, Éomer." He gave the words back that Éomer had said to him earlier.

Another snort of laughter. "I- can not argue with that. No."

"Good." He drew Éomer close and then kissed him, chuckling a little as Éomer just as quickly turned the gentle kiss into a headlong rush into desire. "Can you not- give me a moment to enjoy that?" He asked when they drew apart, trying to catch their breaths.

"You take too long." Éomer rolled his eyes. "It comes from traveling on foot too much I warrant."

"You cover 45 leagues in three days running without your horse and see if you would speak to me of sloth." Aragorn said, the annoyance obvious in his voice.

"No. That tale I leave to the bards, Aragorn. Can you not please, show some of the same haste you did in that so legendary tracking of your fellows across our plains?" Strong hands, sword callused and rough from long handling of reins slid down his sides to the waist of his hose and then undid the tie before Aragorn could stop him.

"Éomer...." He shook his head a bit but then only let the last of his clothing slide to the floor and stepped out of them.

Éomer gave no outward sign that he was unsettled, for good or ill, by Aragorn's nudity and so he reached over, with more caution than Éomer had shown and undid the ties that held Eomer's last piece of clothing in place as well. Éomer shivered, a barely perceptible tremor, but only added his hands to Aragorn's to push the light brown leggings to the floor. Éomer gave him no real chance to appreciate what he could now see and only drew him into another kiss. He swallowed a sigh and then eased his arms around Éomer and drew him closer again as the kiss continued. "Lie with me?" Eomer's voice was a whisper as he finally broke the kiss.

"With pleasure." Aragorn said. He wondered if Éomer truly had any idea how very desirable an offer it was. Despite the very real shadow of Eomer's memories Aragorn was honest enough with himself to know he desired his friend. "You steal my breath and my thoughts."

"Do I?" Something lighter to the amber eyes now, and Éomer smiled as his hands slid down over Aragorn's back, stopping suddenly. "Aragorn?"

"Hmm?"

"Those are lash marks." Eomer's hands tightened on his skin.

"Yes. They are." He agreed. "Goblins." He shrugged a bit. "Legolas did the best he could for them."

"You- were captured by goblins?" The words were hesitant, not unlike the soft touches of Eomer's strong fingers along his scars.

"In Moria, long before the Fellowship journeyed there. Before the Dwarves reclaimed it."

Eomer's eyes darkened. "So- you do know- some of it."

"I do. Likely, if not for Legolas, I would know more." He gave Éomer a rueful smile. "Goblins enjoy those who- give good sport."

"Did you spit in their faces?" Eomer's fingers were steadier now, the caresses firmer, making him want to shiver.

"Only one." He shrugged. "He told me to keep my mouth shut unless I wanted to beg for mercy or until he decided a better use for it, or he would cut out my tongue and choke me with it." He said, trying for the same calm tone that Éomer had used to deliver so many horrors to him. He was not expecting the strong embrace Éomer pulled him into. He rested his chin on Eomer's shoulder and only held him back. "It is long past."

"Does it haunt you still?"

"Sometimes," He admitted, with a rueful smile. Perhaps it would ease Eomer some to know he too was haunted by old memories, although he was rather certain his own horrors were by no measure close to his friend's. He slid his hands down Eomer's arms, trying to offer comfort with more than words."When I do not expect it. A dream, a flash of cold memory will come. But- the wounds have healed. It feels- oddly good to have you touch the scars so though."

"Does it?" Éomer's hands stroked down his back again. Then he turned Aragorn about, and Aragorn went with the move so that Éomer stood behind him. Aragorn could hear him catch his breath sharply. "So much pain."

"It is the way of life." Aragorn shrugged. "Éomer...."

"Let me." Éomer's lips brushed his shoulder, warm softness in contrast to the slight roughness of his beard and then moved lower, tracing from one old scar to another with his tongue.

Aragorn gasped, unprepared for the move or the pleasure it brought him."Éomer."

"I like that tone."

"Do you?" He chuckled, leaning his head back and enjoying the pleasure. "Mercy hmm, King of the Mark? I have no wish to stand while you do that, when your bed is so close."

"Would you- lay upon it and let me do this?"

"Yes." He understood the unspoken question and simply did as Éomer asked, lay down upon the bed, on his stomach with his head pillowed on his arms.

"Aragorn...." Éomer sat beside him. "Do you trust me so?"

"Yes."

A soft sigh, he could feel against his skin and then Éomer traced another of the scars with his tongue, and then another with soft kisses, and then another, his long blond hair trailing over Aragorn's skin as well in its own caress.

Aragorn held still as long as he could but finally he could not manage it longer and rolled over.

"You drive me mad."

"Do I?" Éomer looked down at him with a smile and then kissed him, deep and hard. "Is that something I should avoid doing?"

"No." Aragorn shook his head, rolling over so that he was on his side facing Éomer. "It was a- wonderful gift."

Éomer's smile gentled. "Did it rouse you?"

"Now that is a foolish question."

"Hmm. I enjoyed it too." One strong hand stroked down Aragorn's side. "Did Legolas help you kill them?"

"The goblins? No. He had barely enough time to free me when they left me unconscious. Perhaps they were some we slew in Moria when the Fellowship was there. I know not." He stroked his hand down Éomer's side in turn. "Do you wish you had slain him then? Tracked him down after Isengard was broken?"

"Sometimes." Éomer gave a slight shrug. "I thought about it, once the war was over and Sauron defeated. But there was no time. Too much had to be dealt with in rebuilding Rohan, and I was King of the Mark and so it fell to me to see it done." Éomer sighed, his fingers stopping their caress along Aragorn's side and instead catching his in a tight grip. "But I would have killed him slowly had I the chance."

And it came to Aragorn that Éomer did not know of Gríma's death. He drew a deep breath and then offered the knowledge, not quite certain whether it would be what Éomer wished to hear or not. "He is dead, Éomer. Killed in Saruman's service after the war."

Éomer blinked, and his hand tightened so hard on Aragorn's that he had to bite back a wince with all his strength. "Dead?"

"Yes. Pippin brought me news of it, as it happened near the Shire."

"I- see," Éomer said, and then drew a deep breath of his own and let it out. "I- think I am relieved. I had thought- too often in the dead hours of the night, that given his hatred of our house he would come back and decry what he had done to me in front of my men to see me lose standing from it."

That made Aragorn frown and he took his other hand from Éomer's hair and placed it firmly over his heart. "You give him too much strength yet, Éomer. You give what was done to you too much power. It makes you no less. Indeed I perceive it makes you more, for you have done so much despite it. Let it go now, my friend. Do not keep yourself in the darkness he would have left you in."

Éomer sighed, and then rolled onto his back so that he gazed at the ceiling and not into Aragorn's eyes. "It is- not so simple to do as it is to say, Aragorn."

"No. Few things are. But you are strong enough to bear the doing no matter how much more difficult it is than the saying."

A slightly sad smile crossed Éomer's face. "With help- perhaps."

"Then tell me what you would have of me and I will aid you." He moved closer to run his fingers down Éomer's chest now, lower and with more firmness over his stomach so as to arouse and not tickle.

Éomer turned to look at him, amber eyes bright now. "Take me." He said, and it took Aragorn a moment to grasp the words they were so quiet.

"Éomer...."

Éomer's fingers pressed against his lips. "I would have you- mount me. I would give to you what he took. You may not see it as submission to him but I do. And I would not give him that any longer. Would not- allow him to continue to be the last man the King of Rohan allowed to use him."

"Éomer."

"Listen. Please, Aragorn. He- used me, like one would a- thing to be owned, and not a man. It does not shame me in your eyes and I- I love you for that honor. But- it shames me yet in mine. Take me. For I would give it to you and feel no shame in the submission. You are my High King, and I could- submit so to you and do it with honor."

"Éomer- it is not so simple...nor would I have it be so--cold- I...."

Pride and passion both flared in the heated amber depths and Éomer caught his hand and squeezed it again. "Would you- turn away my gift as unworthy?"

Aragorn sighed. "That- was an underhanded complaint." He said. "Éomer- it is not unwillingness that makes me cautious. Nor is it in any way that I am not completely honored and amazed at your offer. It is only- concern. And now you have made this into something that I can not refuse without insulting your honor and my own."

Éomer smiled, with just a trace of bitterness. "And so you will say yes."

Aragorn gave a frustrated sigh. "Yes."

"You would say no because you would let the healer outrule the friend, Aragorn. And I would have the friend first and the healer second, since I am so fortunate as to have them both my king."

"It should not be about rank- nor honor or a willingness to submit. It should be a joy shared between lovers, Éomer. Without shame or guilt."

Éomer's eyes darkened a little. "It can not be- not for me, Aragorn. Not yet. Free me of the shadow and I may yet say that I bear no shame in the submission. But for now- grant me the honor of- knowing I can give myself to the only man I may kneel to and feel no shame."

Aragorn sighed, but he gave Éomer a quick and gentle kiss. "Then we will try to find your freedom together, my friend." Another sudden chilling thought came to his mind and he had to voice it in concern. "Have you never- shared this with a friend, Éomer? Before Gríma?"

Éomer gave him a smile that eased the concern before the words. "Long before, when I was only a rider of Eorlingas and not even yet a captain of the Mark." He gave a small shrug. "And you, Aragorn? You have done this also?"

"Yes." Aragorn relaxed some. "Though I am, I fear, woefully out of practice."

Éomer gave him a surprising grin, "Arwen will be relieved to hear that I am certain."

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "She is very well aware of it." He pressed his fingers over Éomer's heart again. "We will need something to aid us in the doing then. I will not bring you pain."

Éomer's brows drew together in a frown of concentration. "Will the oil I use for caring for my sword do?"

"I would think so." Aragorn smiled a little. "I can recall using its like before."

"Then I will get it." Éomer rose to his feet and Aragorn only lay where he was, content to watch as Éomer moved to the chest he wanted beside which his armor was displayed. He marveled at his friend's great courage which brought him to shame himself with its brilliance which Éomer it seemed did not see at all

Aragorn rose after a moment and went to the fire, to heat one of the metal goblets left by the servants earlier. When he judged it was warm but not yet too hot he drew it out with the fire tongs and tested it with a quick touch of one fingertip on the inside. Then he walked back over to the bed and set it down on the small table beside it. Éomer gave him a half-bitter smile and poured some of the oil into the goblet.

Aragorn waited until he was done to take his hand and draw it to his lips. "If it- seems as if your desires- outpace what you can bear, simply tell me and I will always cease."

"I do not doubt it. Nor you." Éomer replied, but he was tense under Aragorn's fingers.

"Then I have your trust?"

Éomer blinked, looking more surprised at the question than concerned. "Without fail."

"As King of Gondor?"

"Yes. Why do you question me now?"

Aragorn smiled and reached over with his other hand so that he could grip both of Éomer's hands in both of his. "And Elessar would thank you for it. Do you yet trust me as a brother in arms?"

Éomer sighed but squeezed his fingers in return. "Yes. I could never ask for better to fight beside me in battle."

"Then you have Aragorn's thanks as well. And as a healer? Will you trust me to give you comfort from your pain?" He let go of Éomer's fingers to run his hands up over arms to his shoulders.

"As a healer also then." Éomer gave him an exasperated sort of smile. "Is this some test you put before me?"

"Before myself I think, Éomer," He replied and then let his hands spread over Éomer's chest and down over strong muscles so the Éomer arched a bit into the touch. "And Estel would thank you for trusting that I can yet find some balm for your wounds. And at the last you would trust me yet as simply your friend?"

"Without thought."

He smiled a bit at the growing exasperation in Éomer's voice. "Thank you." He said, simply and ran his hands down over Éomer's hips as he spoke watching the light flare and catch in Éomer's eyes again. "And would you have it be King, shield-brother, healer or friend who asks you back to the bed we were just beginning to share?"

"What if I answer all?"

"Hmm. Now that might prove a challenge. I do not know that I can be all at once."

Éomer's smile was suddenly gentle and warm. "You are always all to me, Aragorn."

"Am I then?" He smiled in return. "Good. Come to bed then, Éomer?"

"How would you have me?" There was a sudden shyness to the words and Aragorn bit back a sigh at the underlying assumption that there would be no easing Éomer into this. Then perhaps Éomer did not want to be eased into it. For ease spoke of time, and the longer a fear had to grow the worse it would become, and a greater and greater test of courage and stubbornness it became. And while Aragorn did not doubt that Éomer had both in great quantities, more than Éomer gave himself credit for, he also saw no reason to place an even greater burden on his friend than was already being born.

"Lay down if you would?"

A dark flash of fear or memory skittered through the amber eyes dulling them to deep brown. "On my back or on my stomach?"

"Which ever you think would hurt less." Aragorn offered simply. "I am not your enemy, Éomer."

"No- I know that. It is- not you, Aragorn."

"I know that as well." He smiled gently. "Lay down, Éomer of Rohan, on your stomach if you would and trust me at your back as you would in battle."

"That I can do; I think." Éomer gave him a nod and then did as he had asked, but Aragorn could see the shudder that went through the corded muscles as he settled on the bed.

"Do not tense so, hmm? I will never cause you pain if I can do anything to prevent it." He made sure Éomer was watching him before he reached out with one hand and started at the clenched fist closest to him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his thumb in a soothing circle on the back of Éomer's hand, then wider up his wrist, and then further up again, along his forearm. "Relax for me, Éomer. I seek only to ease your burdens and free us from the shadows that yet linger."

"I- am trying."

"Take a deep breath, hmm?" He suggested and smiled when Éomer did so. "There is nothing to fear here now, Éomer. Only freedom and friendship and joy." He leaned down and kissed Éomer softly, tracing the slightly open lips with his tongue.

"Hmmm.....that's better than breathing."

Aragorn chuckled against his lips and then moved to nibble lightly at his shoulder. "Breathe regardless, hmm?" He suggested. Then he reached over with slow caution and dipped his fingers into the warm oil. Éomer shivered but did not tense more. "Trust." He said, neither question or order.

"Yes," Éomer said. Aragorn drew his fingers from the oil and then held them just above Éomer's spine and let warm drops dribble along the length. Éomer gave a surprised snort of laughter that was probably a pure release of tension. "Aragorn."

"You will have to let me do this at my own pace, Éomer. I will not be rushed, but I promise not to tarry too long either. But if I can not do this so that you find pleasure in it, I will never forgive myself."

"Then I will try- to wait."

"I think you might enjoy part of that waiting." He reached down with both hands and dug his fingers and thumbs hard into tense muscles. Éomer gave a loud groan and then relaxed again with a shudder that did not seem to Aragorn to hold any trace of fear. "You are stones and strong rope under your skin." He kneaded the strong muscles with a frown.

"Aragorn."

"Was that complaint or compliment, my friend?" He smiled and worked his hands lower yet.

"Both." Éomer muttered. "You will tear me apart with your healing?"

"Never." He leaned down and placed a soft kiss in the middle of Éomer's shoulder blades.

"Aragorn....." That was a sigh that held far more pleasure than the earlier complaint and some of the tension left the strong knotted muscles under his hands. He eased more of the tension for a quiet few minutes and then reached over for more oil to once again dribble onto Éomer's skin. This time there was only a sigh in response, without even a shiver. "Hmm, I told you I did not want the healer to over-rank the friend, did I not?"

"You did." Aragorn leaned down again and while he continued to work the tension from Éomer's lower back he let his tongue play around the edge of his ear. Éomer shivered but given the sigh that accompanied it Aragorn took it to be a tremor of passion and not of old fears. "And this is neither. Only a lover's caress, Éomer- even if I might disguise it under a healer's hands and a friend's trust."

Éomer chuckled. "That is an underhanded trick, but I shall not object to it."

"Good." He whispered the word into Éomer's ear and then bit lightly into the lobe and he let his hands play further yet, stroking lightly over Éomer's buttocks. Éomer gave a sound between a laugh and a startled cry. "Éomer?"

"I- I know not....Do not stop."

"If you wish me to continue, I will do it."

He let his fingers stay where they were and then drew them back up slowly and then down once more, continuing as he did so to tease Éomer's ear and throat with his tongue, lips, teeth and the roughness of his beard. Éomer drew in a shaky breath and then let it out in a sigh. And after an interminably long wait, or so it seemed to Aragorn, he relaxed again with a softer sigh. "It is only me, Éomer."

"I know." Éomer said, but there was still tension to the soft words. "Do not- prolong this so, Aragorn please? I- have not the courage to wait."

"You do. I will not tarry overlong, Éomer, but it can not be rushed either. I will not hurt you with it."

"I do not wish it to hurt. Only- to have it done."

Aragorn sighed, warring with himself over how quickly to proceed and manage both healing and an end to fear. "Soon," he promised by way of compromise between his concerns and Éomer's frustration. He drew more oil from the goblet and then laid his other hand flat against the small of Éomer's back. "Say it and I will stop."

"Do it." It was a command, rough around the edges with tension but not at all an order to cease.

"Give me your word you will tell me if it causes you pain."

"Aragorn...." His name was a growl.

"Give me your word, and I will see it done." He layered Elessar's authority over his voice. "Your word, Éomer."

"I will tell you if it causes pain." Éomer groaned. "I give you my word, my lord."

"Thank you." He let the command go and kissed the same spot between Éomer's shoulder blades as he had earlier. Keeping his left hand where it was on Éomer's back he eased his oil slick fingers down. "You must spread your legs a little, Éomer." He whispered it softly, felt Éomer shudder at the words but then nod sharply and do as he had asked. "Éomer...." It worried him; that calm acceptance of an order.

"Do not- fail me in this, Aragorn."

"Never." He promised, trying to put as much into the one word as he could. He played his fingers down, between Éomer's legs now and then back up from the base of his sacs to the opening he sought.

"Aragorn...."

"Only me, Éomer, only a touch, I swear it, on my honor I will do you no harm."

He drew a deep steadying breath himself and then tried to find that center within his deepest spirit where he drew the healing gift from and infuse that into his touch as he eased one slick finger inside the tight heat of Éomer's body.

"Bema!"

"Breathe." He all but pleaded. "I will stop."

"Do not stop.... It- feels.... There is no pain, Aragorn."

"Good." He wished for more than that, for Éomer to say it brought him joy. But he would for the moment take a lack of pain, or fear. "Relax, Éomer, I will not move until you do."

"Aragorn...."

"Relax." He soothed a caress down Éomer's spine with his other hand. "I can not do this if I think I am hurting you Éomer- truly, I will find no pleasure in it, and I can not give you what you wish if I can not find enough passion to outweigh the fear I have of hurting you."

Éomer gave a low curse that was far more fitting for a losing battle than a shared bed. "Would you have me beg? Whimper like a camp follower beneath your touch? See it done."

"No." He hardened his own voice and then leaned down again to place a kiss to the small of Éomer's back. "If you can not allow me to give you pleasure, Éomer, I will not do this."

"I- do not think I can- yet, Aragorn." There was a trace of something like apology to the words now. "Only- in truth tell me what I can do- to make certain you enjoy it enough to see it done."

"You could give me some hint that I do more than force you all over again." It came out so much harsher than he had meant it to.

Éomer growled and then rolled over suddenly, surprising Aragorn completely and drawing him suddenly into a hard desperate kiss. He would have pulled away, to apologize or ask forgiveness but Éomer would not release him, only pressed his tongue between Aragorn's lips.

Aragorn gave a sigh, mostly in defeat and let Éomer dictate the kiss as he would, and it was enough to draw pleasure from Éomer's own desire. Finally, Éomer's grip on his hair and shoulder eased enough for him to raise his head.

"I will not have you term this rape." Éomer growled, his eyes too full of too much for Aragorn to begin to even decipher.

"I- I meant no insult, Éomer.... Only...."

"I need this. Do not make me beg."

"Never." He sighed, shaking his head against the sudden need to try to explain. "I only- wish to love you, Éomer."

"Then do so," Éomer sighed himself and then reached up to stroke his fingers down Aragorn's back. "Aragorn."

"Tell me what I can do- to give us both joy in this, Éomer....Will you not let me try?"

"You- could kiss me again."

"Do you find joy in my kisses, Éomer?" He found a smile.

"I have found joy in your kisses even in the very pits of my darkest nightmares, Aragorn."

He laced his fingers into the tousled blond hair and then leaned down to do as Éomer suggested. Éomer let him set the pace for this one, which was both relief and worry, but he took the opportunity to thoroughly enjoy the long deep kiss that resulted. Éomer's hands began to stroke down his back again, slower caresses now but with no less strength to them. He sighed against Éomer's lips and then drew back. "Éomer."

"You still taste of freedom."

He smiled sadly. "And you of courage." He moved down to lick teasingly at Éomer's throat, tasting skin and sweat and a slight tang of fear like cold metal. Éomer let out a low gasp but did not pull him away as he sucked hard at the spot just below his ear. And the hands on his back tightened almost painfully. "Yes?" He whispered it against the spot he was worrying.

"Yes, " Éomer said with a soft chuckle. "If you must waste all our time in seduction that is a good start."

Despite himself Aragorn laughed. "Do not tempt me to show you seduction, Éomer." He trailed kisses down the arched throat to his chest. "I will only take your challenge." He teased his fingers up Éomer's sides and then brushed his palms as light as he could over Éomer's chest.

"Aragorn."

He chuckled again, and then let himself smile fully against Éomer's skin, because he could feel the renewed interest begin to harden Éomer's cock against his thigh. "Yes?" He asked after another long slow kiss.

"Yes."

"Yes." He agreed and then reached down to slide his fingers carefully up from the base of Éomer's cock to the tip.

"Bema!" Éomer arched hard into the caress. "Warn a man...."

Aragorn laughed. "I am going to touch you now." He warned, and did it again without pausing.

"Aragorn."

There was a note of something more than annoyance to his name and so he only chuckled again. Then Éomer moved a bit and Aragorn found himself taken in a similar caress of callused fingers. "Yes?" Éomer said, the dare an obvious tease to his voice.

"Oh yes." Aragorn agreed, returning to the spot on Éomer's throat he'd tormented earlier he fell back to it while he kept the caress as long as he could.

"Now will you- love me?" Éomer asked softly. "While- there is such joy in this?"

"Yes." He shifted away a bit and let Éomer roll back over beneath him. And it was so much easier to do this when he could tell it took more than a moment for Éomer to find a way to lay that was not too uncomfortable against his arousal. He dipped his fingers back into the slightly warm oil and then reached between Éomer's legs, not to press for entry yet, but further down to tease his slick hand over Éomer's cock again and then back. Repeating the caress several times and then pausing long enough to dip more oil from the cup.

"Aragorn...." This time his name was a warning and he smiled.

"Yes?"

"Get on with it."

"Soon." He rolled his eyes a bit. "We are not arguing this again or we will have to start all over," he threatened.

"You would try the patience of stone. Will you please just take me?"

Despite himself he chuckled. "You are so impatient."

"I am- I do not know what I am. Aragorn...."

"Soon." He swallowed hard, himself at the very arousing sight of Éomer squirming so against his touch. For the moment there was none of the fear that had so haunted them only a bit ago. "You are- astounding."

"I would prefer if you told me I was arousing enough that you would see this done."

"Very well, Éomer. You are more than arousing enough for me to tell you that." He leaned down to find the same spot beneath Éomer's ear as he had from the other side and bit softly as he slid one finger back into Éomer's body. And while the muscles clenched tight Éomer did not pull away or shudder.

"That is so- odd."

"Good I hope."

"I- it is not bad. Only...." Éomer shifted a bit against the penetration. "Odd."

"It will get better."

"Not if you don't get on with it."

Aragorn rolled his eyes and trailed his free hand down Éomer's back while he licked at his throat until Éomer relaxed around his finger enough for him to think about moving it at all. Éomer arched up a bit against him and it was sight enough to make Aragorn's own cock twitch. "Do you know how you make me ache?" He whispered as he traced the outer curve of Éomer's ear with his tongue.

"I will- be glad for it if you will hurry up."

"Patience." He shook his head but eased that finger out and in again.

"Do it...." Éomer growled.

Aragorn swallowed hard, biting back both his own desire and the gentle words of real concern he felt for his young friend. Even understanding the fear and pride and the courage and stubbornness that underlay Éomer's continued commands and impatience, he refused to either push too fast or coddle the man too much. Éomer deserved neither and better than both.

He soothed a hand down Éomer's side instead feeling the sweat slicked muscles shiver under his touch, but he did not now doubt that was from passion and not the fear that had prompted some of Éomer's earlier responses. Éomer's skin was crisscrossed here and there with old scars as was his own but he found himself wondering now how some of them had been earned, not in battle with orc or Uruk-Hai or fell goblin but through the malice and hate filled desire of a man Aragorn would dearly love to strangle. He pushed the anger aside because its target was long dead and Éomer's great courage in asking Aragorn to his bed, to help him make peace with the horrible memories Gríma had instilled in his mind which yet scared his soul, deserved his un-divided attention.

"Do it!" Éomer said again, the order obvious now. "Or- admit it will not happen."

"It will happen. Soon." He promised in lieu of either; easing another finger into the warmth of Éomer's body instead, feeling the muscles he was trying to relax clamp down hard around his fingers at the sensation of even that much penetration.

"Damn you Aragorn- I will not beg!"

"I do not want you to beg." He soothed. "I want you to enjoy it."

"If I was any harder I would burst!"

He smiled, stroking his free hand down Éomer's back and then back up to tangle in the luscious mane of blond waves. He pulled the hair aside and nibbled at Éomer's ear. "Then relax, my friend so I do not cause you pain."

"I...." Éomer stopped whatever he had meant to say and then gave a quick harsh nod and took a deep breath. "I...can not...yield more than this." It had the odd sound of an apology.

"Then we will wait until you can. I will ease you if I am able, Éomer. But my love and respect for you are too great for me to take you thus if it must be with force even with your consent."

"I- can not yield more.... If you bear me any love at all, Aragorn- see it done and claim me."

"I will not claim, I will not take, but I will share, and give and delight in the joining if you will allow it."

Éomer gave a groan as if he was wounded. "It shames me."

"What? That you take pleasure in my touch? When I am trying so very hard to insure that you do just that? Why does that cause you shame, Éomer?"

"You know why...."

"No," Aragorn said. But he stroked his free hand down Éomer's back again. "I know that you were taken before in greed and a desire to cause pain and break you with the doing. That you survived such, and are still the best man I could ever ask to have as ally and friend, should never be a cause for shame. That you have the courage yet to break free of those bonds that still hold you captive to the fear is cause more I think for honor and awe. You shame me, Éomer with your courage."

Éomer gave another low groan, that contained perhaps a sob. "Will you not please just see it done?"

"If we do this as a claiming, Éomer, even one you find pleasure in and one you wish to see consummated, it is only allowing that horrible worm of a man some claim to your soul still. Cast him out now. Let go the horror and share with me what this can be between equals, King of Rohan." He gave Éomer's title even as he eased his fingers out and back in again, searching for that spot he hoped would give Éomer more pleasure still.

"Aragorn." Éomer arched his back sharply and then shook. "You will- break me yet."

"Never." Aragorn promised, a low soft whisper into Éomer's ear. "Does that feel good to you, Éomer? Does it steal your breath and make the pulse pound hard in your cock?"

"Yes...."

"Shall I do it again then?"

"Yes...." Almost a sob now. "I- want to enjoy it, Aragorn, but I do not know that....I can."

Aragorn smiled. "You are too stubborn and brave, Éomer to not succeed at something you truly wish to accomplish. Take delight in the joy and pleasure it gives me to please you so, hmm? Is that not a victory against the darkness?"

"Perhaps....." Éomer sighed. "Do it again?"

"And again. And again," Aragorn promised, following action to words. "That is it, relax now, Éomer. I would beg it of you if I must my friend."

Éomer shuddered. "Kings do not beg, Elessar."

Aragorn chuckled. "This King would beg of you, Lord of the Mark. Let me bring you pleasure, Éomer. Give over the shadows and take joy in the healing now."

Éomer gave a sudden snort of laughter. "That is not how I imagine 'the hands of a King are the hands of a healer' was meant, Aragorn."

Aragorn laughed himself and then carefully eased a third finger in with the others. "If it gives you pleasure to have me heal you so, Éomer I will count it amongst the greatest blessings of my life."

"You unmake me," Éomer groaned, but he pressed back into Aragorn's hand now. "I feel as if the very lightening of the plains was in my blood."

"Then I have achieved something I have wished for." Aragorn slowly rolled Éomer over onto his side. "Would you yet give me the honor of being your lover, Éomer? Will you share with me such a wonder as we can make between us?"

Éomer looked back over his shoulder. "You speak too much, Aragorn. Kiss me first and then see it done. I will never find another to trust more."

There was some small flame of Éomer's usual humor to the amber eyes and Aragorn smiled back. "As you command, Éomer." He leaned over as much as he could and kissed Éomer with all the love and joy he knew how to put into such an action. Éomer groaned against his lips, his tongue teasing Aragorn's, in a slippery, velvet duel. "Valar, you will have me undone before I can grant your wish, Éomer."

That made Éomer laugh. "You've patience enough for mountains Aragorn. You will see your promise kept. Do it now, please? When I can know the joy in it."

"Hmm, I have a better thought. More suited I think to what we would do." He moved so he was kneeling on the bed, Éomer once more on his stomach. "Up onto your knees if you can, Éomer."

"That will never work, will it?" But Éomer raised up onto hands and knees with a groan. Aragorn only pressed his fingers back into Éomer, easing him open just that bit more.

"It will work more than well." Aragorn said and then dipped his other hand into the oil again and slicked it over himself. "You may, at any moment, no matter how much we have done, tell me nay and I will stop."

"When I have finally gotten you to agree to taking me as I wanted?" Éomer shook his head. And Aragorn had to bite back the sudden urge to run his hands through that wondrous mane of now tangled blond hair, to pull Éomer's head back and lick the sweat from his neck, taste the skin along his shoulder and feel all that coiled aching strength bunch and startle under his tongue. He eased his fingers free and then settled his hands on Éomer's hips, marveling a bit at how very well they fit into the subtle curves of muscles as if they had been made for just that. Then he pressed forward slowly, gritting his own teeth and drawing on every scrap of patience he had ever learned to take the penetration as slow as he could possibly manage.

Éomer gave a sharp cry and arched his back as his muscles clamped down hard around Aragorn's cock, but he did not thankfully try to pull away from Aragorn's hands nor press back into the penetration. "It- burns...."

"I am sorry." Aragorn whispered. "It will ease. Relax for me, Éomer, I beg of you. You will tear us both if you do not." He was not certain he could move at all, forward or backward so tightly was Éomer clamped around him.

"I- will try." Éomer answered. Aragorn forced down a deep breath of his own, caught on a cusp of pain and pleasure that made it almost impossible to think. He stroked his hands down Éomer's sides and then one down; underneath them to tease along the heavy cock he found waiting.

"Aragorn...." Éomer groaned out but he did relax a bit around Aragorn's own cock. "You will- split me in two."

"Never." Aragorn found his voice with a smile. "You are thicker than I, Éomer." he played his hand up and down the hard flesh under his fingers.

"Am I?" Éomer chuckled. "Does not feel so to me, Aragorn." He said. Then a slight shiver went through the strong corded muscles under Aragorn's other hand. "I thought the fear had passed."

"It will." Aragorn assured him. "Breathe with me, Éomer, taste your freedom as you do."

"You- have a wizard's tongue to you, Aragorn."

He chuckled himself and then licked along the furrow of muscle that made a path down Éomer's spine. "Next time I will show you what other talents I have with my tongue, Éomer."

That got a startled chuckle from Éomer and eased him even more so that Aragorn could push a bit deeper into him now. "It is unseemly for one king to kneel to another king, Elessar."

Aragorn chuckled himself. "What if we kneel to each other, King of Rohan?"

"I feel like no King now, Aragorn. Only a man- who is fortunate beyond all the luck the world holds to have such a friend."

"And you think I have a wizard's way with words?"

"Next time I can show you what else I can do with my tongue as well, Aragorn."

He nibbled his way back up Éomer's spine and then brushed that lovely hair aside to find his throat. "I would be honored." He pressed deeper again and then gasped as he slid fully into the man beneath him.

"Oh....." Éomer's breath left him in a gasp but he neither tensed again nor pulled away. "Was that what I feared for so long?" A chuckle. "Foolish fear."

"No fear is truly foolish, Éomer." Aragorn said but he smiled at the wonder that laced Éomer's words. "No pain then?"

"None....share it with me now?"

"With joy and love." Aragorn promised and then eased back and forward again then once more aiming now for the spot he sought.

Éomer gave a cry and pressed back against him as his aim proved true. "Yes."

"Yes." Aragorn agreed and then placed both hands on Éomer's waist again, finding that perfect place where his fingers rested so well. "Sit back with me, hmm?" He eased Éomer up onto his knees and then back so that he was straddling Aragorn's legs.

"Madness...." Éomer whispered but he laughed a bit and then all but whimpered as Aragorn played one hand over his cock. "Aragorn...." He arched up into the caress and then groaned and pressed back into Aragorn's penetration. "Oh...."

"This is a skill you excel at, Éomer. Ride as you will."

"Aragorn-- you will make me weep yet."

"It was never my intent to cause you grief, Éomer."

"They would be tears of- joy- and pleasure--both."

"Ah, then weep if you would. I will count them sweet tears indeed if you shed them with pleasure." He dug his fingers once more into Éomer's hair and pulled it aside to stretch up and nibble at his neck. "Take your pleasure then, my friend."

"And yours."

"Oh, it is definitely mine." Aragorn laughed and then pushed up off his heels to prove it. And then they needed no words either sweet or bitter. Only soft sounds of a pleasure too deep for words, sighs of joy in each other's names and the succulent echoes of passion shared. Aragorn let his mouth play over Éomer's back as his hands roamed over the scarred canvas of chest and stomach, thighs and cock. Éomer reached back with one hand to grip Aragorn's hip, the other wrapping around the one Aragorn had on his cock for a last few hard strokes before the pleasure caught Éomer like a well sprung trap. He went taunt as drawn bowstring in Aragorn's arms for a moment before his completion spilled out over their clasped hands.

Aragorn gave a soft growl against the delicious sweat soaked skin under his tongue and let himself follow in that great leap into ecstasy, spilling himself deep into Éomer with a final thrust. It was some testament to the hard earned grace of so many years of fighting that he and Éomer both managed to find their way to lying full out on the soft mattress beneath them without injury. Aragorn found himself pulling Éomer into his arms, still his chest against Éomer's back and easing gentle caresses over shivering skin until he settled. They were silent for a bit as they both caught their breath. Aragorn reached down to find a coverlet to pull over them both in the cool air. Éomer was still quiet but then his shoulders began to shake against Aragorn and he only held his friend all the tighter. "Is it grief or joy that makes you shake so?" He finally asked.

"Joy...and grief lost...and chains broken...and new bonds of golden friendship forged."

"Then I will not council you against those tears either. Share them with me." He eased Éomer over onto his other side so he could kiss away the tears. "Have I aided your healing, my dearest friend?"

"You have made me whole, Aragorn."

"No." He shook his head with a smile. "You were always whole, Éomer. I only showed you what you had forgotten."

"I never claimed not to be slow about some things." Éomer smiled despite his tears. "Kiss me?"

"With pleasure." Aragorn said. And they shared a long soft kiss that held only joy despite the remaining bitterness of tears. Éomer broke the kiss finally and then smiled at him again and simply settled into his arms. "Rest?" He asked gently.

"I will sleep better than I have in years," Éomer promised.

"And I in your joy, my friend." And for now that was simply enough, because they had passed through the darkness and won free of it, and both of them and the lands they ruled could only be the stronger for it.


End file.
